Time Bomb
by dizzygirl464
Summary: When Alex's life is targeted its bad enough. But when it involves the people he loves its unbearable. Alex needs to get away and fast. But how? And where to ...


"Alex, get you're lazy butt downstairs now, please!"

Fifteen year old Alex Rider responded as any other teenager would. He gave a loud grunt, rolled onto his stomach and thumped his pillow over his head.

"Alex, this is your last warning." Jack peered up the stairs through the banisters at Alex's closed door in annoyance. She turned to the person who had called on them at 10 in the morning. "Just go ahead up. Maybe he'll wake up then," she advised them with a faint grin.

The small figure nodded with what could have been mistaken as a nervous smile before making her way surprisingly quickly up the stairs. She only hesitated for a moment before pushing the door open. Light spilled into the room, illuminating a figure lying on his stomach in his bed. His feet stuck out from the bottom of the duvet, and his dirty blonde hair was ruffled.

"Go 'way Jack," he muttered into the pillow, swatting dopily with his hand.

"Hi, Alex," responded the figure from the doorway.

Alex darted upright, his eyes still half closed with sleep, his bare chest covered with creases from his bed. He ran a hand through his scruffy hair and squinted hopelessly.

"Sabina? What ... when ...?"

She smiled endearingly, moving forward to sit on the end on his bed.

"We got back yesterday," she told him. "I had to see you ... 6 months is way too long ..."

"Yeah, it's ... it's really nice to see you Sab." He was the only one who'd ever called her that. As his eyes adjusted to the light he was pleased to see a red blush colour her cheeks. As his eyes took her in, he had to admit she had grown up a lot. She was beautiful. Her dark hair was loose, tumbling in waves over her shoulders – she had obviously given up trying to tame it. Her bright blue eyes were distinguished by a light brushing of make-up, her freckles as prominent as ever.

"How've you been Alex?" her eyes raked over his bare chest, his face and shoulders, noting with a quiet satisfaction there were no new bruises or cuts.

"Good. I've been good-"

She interrupted before he could finish. "That's great Alex. Now go and get a shower – you stink."

And she left him in his room, grinning to himself. Sabina was back.

**o.O.o**

"Alex ..." Jack and Sabina broke off their conversation as he walked into the room, freshly showered, dressed and brushed. He was in a plain white T-shirt that brought out the blonde in his hair, and casual jeans that he made look designer.

"You're forgiven Jack," he grinned as he grabbed a piece of toast and sat down at the table.

"I'm forgiven?" spluttered Jack. "Gee, thanks Alex, but you're the one that couldn't wake up in the morning," she laughed, enjoying their playful banter.

"So, Alex ... how are you? Really." Sabina spoke from the sink, where she stood holding a mug. Jack quickly looked at Alex, then at the floor, seeming uncomfortable. "I need to go and grab some milk. See you kids later?" and she left, leaving her purse on the kitchen table.

"She only wants to let us talk ..." Alex explained, as Sabina eyed the purse and closing door quizzically. She laughed, a soft laugh that seemed so natural Alex couldn't help but join in.

"I'm great, really. No missions since last year. I really do think I'm out."

"Better late than never," Sabina agreed, as her eyes met with the scar on his chest, just visible through the v-neck he wore. "Using a kid ... I mean ..." she stopped, choking on her words. "It's just wrong.

Alex nodded non-committedly, silent in the knowledge he has saved a lot of lives in the past year.

"Oh, dammit." Sabina moaned, leaning forwards examining her back. "New jeans and everything. Alex, I think you're sink's leaking.

He frowned, moving forwards to examine the muddy puddle dripping slowly from the cupboard. "We just had a man in to fix it yesterday ..."

That's when he heard it. The noise that made the hairs on his neck stand up and his blood turn to ice. He shivered. The ticking of a bomb filled his ears.

"Sabina, get out of here now," he murmured. He saw her hesitate out of the corner of his eye. "Now Sabina!" he leapt to his feet, grabbing her hand and pulling her along as fast as he could, out the door and along the street. He could hear her screaming protests and cries for an explanation, but ignored them. Then he lost his grip on her hand.

"Alex! What the bloody hell is going on? What's wrong? Tell me," she insisted.

That's when the house exploded. He felt an invisible force throw him in the air like he was as small as a rag doll, and knock him to the ground. He couldn't breathe – all the wind had been knocked out of him, and he struggled to keep conscious. The invisible force pressed on his ears, making it impossible to hear anything but his ragged breathing and racing heart. He was alive. He struggled to his feet, unable to process the raining ashes that had, only seconds ago, been his home. Chunks of wood, brick were on fire, just blurred orange waves. Things were raining down on him – material, concrete ... Through the fog clouding him, he could here car alarms from 5 miles away ringing shrilly, and the sirens of emergency vehicles.

"Sabina! Oh, no God please – SABINA," he screamed at the top of his lungs, although he could barely hear himself. "Where are you?"

Then he saw her. A tiny figure, lying, surrounded by brick and timber. She was lying on her front, her hair obscuring her face. The shirt and jeans were dirty, covered in rips where shrapnel had ripped into them. He ran to her, not aware of the tears covering his cheeks.

"No, no, no!" he moaned. "Please."

He rolled her onto her back, shaking her shoulders. "Wake up, please wake up ..."

Her eyes opened, filled with shock and fear. She struggled to sit upright, obviously disorientated. She had been closer to the blast. "Are you okay?" he asked her, taking hold of her shoulders.

She started at him blankly, tears making tracks down her dirty cheeks. He saw rather than heard her ragged breaths. He examined her closely. She had scratches and deeper cuts to her face, bruises already forming. But she was alive.

"We need to get out of here. That bomb – it was aimed at me. I need to get you to safety." He was unknowingly shouting – he couldn't hear what he said himself. To his relief, she nodded, and took his hand tightly, before they both set off at a run.

**o.O.o**

What he didn't see was the man lying on the roof. The roof opposite his house with a clear view into his kitchen window. And the man. Dark clothed. Dark haired. Radio in hand. The man who had to radio in his failure. The man who would not live much longer.


End file.
